


Disposal

by mahons_ondine



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark, Drabble, Post-Season/Series 03, fix-it (Not really)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:41:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5175320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahons_ondine/pseuds/mahons_ondine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is going to be a father.  Mary is going to be a mother.  And Sherlock, well, he's going to be himself.  There are no surprises here.  Everything is going to go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disposal

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-betaed. I apologize for any errors. I was discussing season 4 predictions with my sister and this highly unlikely idea wouldn't leave my head, and I thought I would share it.

John Watson hunched over his knees, face downturned and left arm trembling, scrubs rustling. A black clad figure whirled into the waiting room and stopped short at the sight. John glanced up at Sherlock and watched those cupids-bow lips twist and part, then snap together with a jerky shake of his head. John gasped softly, hardly more than a breath and began to weep, tears dripping down his cheeks to his forearms, leaving tracks in the gore covered flesh. 

 

He flinched and then settled as he felt the heavy weight of the belstaff and Sherlock’s arms around him. For a few moments John wept and Sherlock comforted him. 

Finally he straightened and stood, shrugging off both coat and embrace.  

 

"I want to see her."

 

"John, I'm told it's not a pretty scene—”

 

"No, not her. Not my . . . wife. I want to see my daughter. I want to see Mina."

  

"You'd decided on a name then?" 

 

"She wanted to name her Abigail Grace, but I choose Mina. She’s not exactly here to object anymore." 

 

"John. . ."

 

"Shh," he said, turning to cup Sherlock's cheek, "Mina, Wilhelmina, is perfect.  She will need a strong name without a mother, don't you think? Now, let's head to the NICU." 

John dropped his hand and turned abruptly, but paused when he felt the light pressure of Sherlock’s fingers curling around his shoulder. 

 

“I’ll ask Mycroft to look into it. An artery must have been nicked.  There’s a malpractice suit here certainly.”

 

John laughed hollowly, “No. Leave it be.  She’s dead.  I don’t want to waste any more time.  I have Mina to think of now.”

 

“If you’re certain?”

 

“I’m certain.”

 

“Alright, let’s find Mina and head home.  I’ll have Mycroft send the baby’s things to Baker Street,” murmured Sherlock, phone in hand, texting furiously. 

 

“Baker Street,” John breathed, a grin breaking out across his face, “Yes, I think that will be just fine.  You’ll have to keep the experiments out of the kitchen.”

“Yes, John.”

 

“And off the floor.”

 

“Yes, John.”

 

“And you’ll have to buy milk!”

 

“John!”

 

John laughed, “Alright, yes. Baker Street will be lovely.  I’m just going to pop off to the washroom for a minute, clean up a bit. Then we’ll see Mina. Why don't you find where she is?”

 

 

John, chuckles dying down, scrubbed his arms in the sink.  It wouldn’t do to see his daughter, while covered in her mother’s blood.  He sighed, picking the grime out from under his fingernails, and reached into the pocket of his scrubs.  He rinsed the blood off the scalpel, dropped it into the sharps container, and opened the door on the rest of his life. 

 


End file.
